Nikki G. Gets Me

Don’t you feel good when you meet someone who gets it? I mean they get the times we live in, understand systems and what needs to be done to make change. They can talk about issues and when they say what they say you say, “Yes, that’s exactly how I feel” or “That’s what I would have said.” And sometimes these people get you. They know your foibles inside and out but don’t cast you out from their presence. You feel that they are that necessary person in your life. They offer you a type of life. They offer you hope. Poetically, Nikki Giovanni is that person for me. I’m not saying she 100 percent gets it with what she says, but she almost 100 percent gets me with how she says what she says. I don’t remember the introduction, whether in high school or college, but when I met Giovanni through her poems I knew she got me. I no longer saw my poems as having a different mixture of meters that wowed some “classically” trained university poets who heard my work; when I read her lines, I heard my lines, and thanked God for an elder with a similar voice.

American poet Nikki Giovanni

Beliefs aside, she got me with “Ego Tripping”. She got me with the poems in “My House.” She got with me with her Tupac Shakur love poem “All Eyez on U”:

as I tossed and turned unable to achieve sleep unable to control
anxiety unable to comprehend why

2Pac is not with us

if those who lived by the sword died by the sword there would be no
white men on earth
if those who lived on hatred died on hatred there would be no KKK
if those who lived by lies died by lies there would be nobody on wall
street in executive suites in academic offices instructing the young
don’t tell me he got what he deserved he deserved a chariot and
the accolades of a grateful people

he deserved his life*

She says what she says with feeling. She doesn’t hold back in fear. I never get a sense that she is speaking with caution only speaking what she thinks she ought without the politics of acceptance shaping her words. She did this in her Tupac poem and she made me think. Not a Tupac fan or a real lover of rap, Giovanni’s poetic picture helped me to see another perspective of the saga surrounding the rapper’s life and death. Her rhythm makes me move when I read her work. Her words, whether slow and contemplative or spit fiery fast, flow through me, giving me pause about the subject and always affirming the poetic voice in me. That’s why I love her, without a doubt my favorite poet.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

*From Love Poems by Nikki Giovanni, William Morrow and Company, Inc., New York: 1997

Divinely Poetic

Poetrythe measured language of emotion; the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts—Dictionary.com

April is National Poetry Month, celebrating all things poetry. This is what I plan to do this month, beginning today, Good Friday, the day that Christians recognize Jesus’ suffering and crucifixion for the sins of humanity. I recognize Jesus Christ as God, the savior, my savior, but today I also recognize Him as the ultimate poet, the one who personified delivering “the measured language of emotion,” his whole life being “the art of rhythmical composition,” displaying love to the fullest.

From before the beginning of time God had plans for me (Ephesians 1:4-6). These plans included living forever in concert with Him then people interrupted this plan, messed it up for all women and men, when they ate that forbidden fruit. They had to depart from His presence, separating all of us from Him, but God never dismissed us from His ultimate plan of life with Him. The people broke the connection and only He could make the connection again.

A bull couldn’t do it. A goat or bird wouldn’t do. Not a lamb or an ordinary man. Only Jesus, perfect God and perfect man when He came to dwell on the earth solely to redeem humanity back to Him (John 1:1, 14). Only he could devise a plan, set it in motion and see it through to its fulfillment. His virgin birth, His sinless life, his death on the cross, paid the price for humanity’s sins that we may live at peace with Him again and forever. “For God so love the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). Christ’s sacrifice—a plan from elevated thoughts (of God Himself)—is the measured language of emotion, a rhythmical composition that gives me pleasure. That is pure poetry.

I am happy today because of the poetry of Jesus. He simply could have said, “Come back to me” and we would have been redeemed. But the price was blood, His very own shed because of His great love for us. That’s some beautiful poetry.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Unlikely Shero

I’m not a socialist or feminist and never thought of myself as either of these. Never found myself on a blacklist, the FBIs Most Wanted List or serving or working in a prison, though I never know what may be in store for me. I don’t advocate lesbianism or atheism, but Angela Y. Davis has been associated with all these, and she is my shero.
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Supernatural Sister

Me & my best friend Nichole wearing t-shirts she designed: Walk by Faith and Fear Less, Hope More

I wasn’t looking for any more friends, was satisfied with the ones I had—old and true not giving me the blues like some relationships I knew about. But I found her, Nichole M. Christian, at a college journalism program meeting in Detroit, and I loved her right away. Continue reading

Sister Love

We always got carded in high school, my sister, Sharon, and me, not because we were trying to buy drinks or get into the club but because of our love for each other. People couldn’t believe we were sisters so we had to show them our driver’s licenses to prove that we lived in the same home. They saw that our love was refreshing and ran deep, like ever flowing springs beyond a desert. This love quenches my thirst for laughter, a safe space, and a reality check, and makes me okay with being put in check if need be. This love is between me and the Rev. Sharon D. Moore, my biological sister and very best friend.

At one time I had a problem saying that she was my very best friend because I have a group of women who I consider my best friends. But beyond biology, when I consider our history and the constancy of our intimacy, I am compelled to show you our identification. She’s my confidante and my giggle girl; we can talk and laugh for hours and never want the time to end. She is total comfort. But this comfort has been steady coming, finally arriving as we have both grown in the Lord and long to treat each other like He does. Before this, we had a few issues. Like many siblings, there was some rivalry, never jealousy about looks or positions. All I remember is that we fought because she liked to wear my stuff and I wasn’t having that. But that period was short-lived. We became allies in 1980 when I was 11 and she was 12. We made a pact not to tell my mom that we fought, an act that would cancel our long-planned trip to California. We stopped fighting then but that’s when Sharon consistently began to fight for me.

She fought my fear: When I got my period, she counseled and coached me through, stroking my knee as she knelt next to me as I sat on the toilet. In junior high she pledged to protect me from the gangs that plagued our schools. She let me hang with her and her friends, 8th and 9th graders no one dared to mess with.

She fought my “loneliness”: I’ve always had my own group of friends and so has she, but if she thought that she was going to have more fun than I she would beg me to join her. And sometimes I just wanted to stay home, but she would choose my outfit and insist I go out with her.

She fought my obsessions and depressions: The times I wondered about my looks, wondered if I had what it took to catch a boy, she was there building me up. She told me about my beauty, what others should see and what was inside me. Sharon never let me think less of myself, only the best of myself and the best for myself.

She fought for my success: Sharon fighting my fear, loneliness, obsessions and depressions clearly helped to make me successful, but she has been on my team helping me fulfill my dreams. She was my campaign manager for my senior class secretary run, promotes my writing by telling people of my service and supports my preaching and teaching by attending and inviting me to speak at engagements. Sharon’s a prayer warrior and prophet for me, seeking God on my behalf and speaking his word to my soul. Besides my husband, she is my greatest cheerleader. Her fight for me has given us a great level of intimacy.

I love Sharon for her love for me but the greater reason is her love the Lord Jesus and people. She wants everyone to be okay. She’s always been this way, a little evangelist, converting hearts and minds from hurt. She knows how to make you feel warm and good about yourself. Sharon did this in her flesh. Now with the strength of the Holy Spirit she’s even bolder so that others know about salvation through Jesus. She’s got a lot of nerve. I love to watch her work to bring others to wholeness and healing with the power of Jesus. She’s a fighter for Him, and she is my shero.

My sister, the Rev. Sharon D. Moore (front row, 3rd from right), assistant pastor of Detroit's Ebenezer AME Church, being honored by The Michigan Chronicle in its Salute to First Ladies in 2010

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith